


Cat

by DangerJaffee



Series: Supernatural Short Stories [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-10 21:22:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19912408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DangerJaffee/pseuds/DangerJaffee
Summary: Kevin is a cute older brother





	Cat

“Hey, Kevin, will you please read to me tonight? Crowley says he’s too busy with school stuffs.” Michael, my 6 year old little brother stumbles over some of the words in the sentence, but I can understand after years of listening to him speak. When he was born, he had a cleft lip, which, once he was 4, they were able to fix, but he has always had a lisp, since, so the sentence comes out as ‘Hey, Tway, wiwl you pwease weed to me tonight? Cwowy says he’s too busy wiff schwool work stuffs.’, instead. I don’t mind though, it’s not like I can’t understand what he’s saying. Plus, he’s way too darn cute to get angry at.

“Sure, little dude,” I answer, pausing COD and following him from my room to his room. His Cookie Monster slipper/flip flops slap quietly, making me smile. What’s even cuter is that he is wearing his matching Cookie Monster onesie, both things I bought him for, this past christmas. Man, I an still remember the look on his face when he pulled them out of the wrapping paper. He was so happy, squealing and doing a little dance, that had honestly made him look as though he was trying not to pee his pants (still adorable, anyways).

We enter him, and his twin Nick’s bedroom, one side bright red with Iron-man everything (Nick) and the other blue the Cookie Monster (Michael). And yes, I did say twins.

They run in the family. My mom and dad are both twins (and yes, they did the thing with my aunt and uncle where they married each other and then my mom’s twin sister married my dad’s twin brother, who were married all the way from college till my Aunt passed away) And, my parents had three sets of twins. Me and Crowley, Nick and Michael, and Dagon and Naomi, who are 11 and both terminal trouble makers. Then we have Asmodeus, our 15 year old ‘I’m too cool for this’ brother and Abbadon, who is 14, and the girliest girly-girl you can imagine. And Mom has one cookin’ who was conceived before mom filed for divorce, but they didn’t find out till after the divorce was finalized. 

The baby is eight months along, but mom doesn’t want to know the gender until it’s born, and it’s already been decided that the baby will stay here with us, cause mom doesn’t work, so she has time for the baby (mom had a super rich grand-uncle or something, long story, but simple version is we have a loooooot of money, enough that dad doesn’t need to pay child support and all nine of us plus my mom’s on and off boyfriend can live comfortably in the house… which we also inherited from said grand-uncle…).

Michael climbs up onto the bed, next to his ‘support’ cat, that Aunt Linda had bought for him when he was 2, Zachariah, who only likes Michael, suprise suprise.

I notice Nick, who is reading Maniac Magee, a gift from Deus (Asmodeus hates that nickname and goes by Assie or his full name, but Me, Mom and Dad all insist on calling him that. Crowley, of course, always the gentleman, calls him Asmodeus), on Nick and Michael’s 6th birthdays. Nick has probably read it at least a dozen times now, but he loves it and reads it all the time. Nick just loves to read in general, anything he can get his hands on really. He’s already at a 4th grade reading level. 

I walk over to the spilt bookshelf. When I say split, a literally mean split. Directly across from the door, on the opposite side of the room, is a bookcase, that is half blue, half red, just like the wall behind it and the carpet below it, and even the inside coloring of the door. The book shelf, perfectly in the middle of the room, is also the in the exact middle of the space between the head of Nick, and the head of Michael’s bed. In between each bed and half of the book case us a desk, of specified color, and a small waist basket with each brother’s mascot, then a bedside table, with a lamp also sporting the correct character on the shade and body of the lamp, then the beds, then another identical bedside table, then a wall of the ame color, and a small closet, which holds their winter attire. Honestly this is the most visually satisfying room in the whole house.

“What’s it tonight, little fella?” I ask, crouching down, on the left side of the book case, Michael’s side.

“The Little Engine That Could, please!” Michael squeaks, squirming slightly under his covers, making Zachariah grumble and stand, the sit on his lap to still him. As Michael pets Zachariah, convincing the brat to lay down once again, this time as close to Michael as the furball could get without being on him, I grab the book and walk past the desk, to his bed where I perch on the edge of his furry, bright blue blanket, much to the distaste of the cow colored lump. 

I begin to read the book to Michael, not even having to look at the pages as I display the book outward to him, having the words dedicated to memory, after reading it to him almost every single night. Mom usually tucks in the twingirls, then Deus, then Abbie, then the twin boys, then Me and Crowley, who, until a week ago, after our fight, he stopped showing up at night to sleep in my room, or really even talking to or coming near me. 

He also convinced Deus, who usually sits at the farthest away from me (not on purpose or anything, that’s just how things ended up) to switch seats with him for family meals. I know that the rest of the family noticed, because I overheard Mom reassuring the rest of our siblings that we would ‘work out whatever it was soon enough’, and that they weren’t to say anything because A) it isn’t their business, B) we’re 17 and can fix our own problems, and C) and I quote, ‘we don’t want to say or do the wrong thing and perhaps make the situation any worse’ which was then followed by Michael asking what perhaps meant, but, before he could get his answer, Crowley shoved past me, into the living room with the rest of the family, then announced that he was going out to Herp de Derp Cafe (the towns only cafe and the main hang out for all people of ages 10 to 21) with ‘some of the guys from the team’. Which I had also been invited to, but decided against going because I had a paper to write for History. 

By the time I am halfway done with the picture book, he’s falling asleep, so, with minimal protests from him and a lot from his over-sized rat, I help him into a sleeping position, then pull the covers up, which the brat scrambles under, to lay on top of Michael before shutting off his Cookie Monster lamp. 

I press a kiss to his forehead, whispering, “If you hold out, mom should be up any minute.” Then I move to Nick and do the same thing, though he is already under his blankets, waiting. After shutting off Nick’s lamp, I walk out of the room, gently shutting the door but leaving it open just a sliver so light can get through.

I walk back down the hall, to my room, but hesitate at the door. I turn around, to look at Crowley’s door, right across the hall from mine, the desire to enter and beg for forgiveness almost overwhelming. But I don’t. Instead I turn back to my own room, opening the door… which I don’t remember closing…

Inside the light is off, and so is my Xbox One… which I am completely sure I left on. My eyes, instinctively go to the bed and I can feel my heart jump into my throat with a suffocating hope. 

I move out of the way of the light that filters in from the hallway. I can feel real tears prick in the corners of my eyes, as the light reveals a large body, with it’s back to the door, on the far side of bed.

I wish to run to him. Or at him. But I instead I gently shut the door, trying not to make too much noise as I quickly strip down to my boxers, like I always did before my confession and hesitate, debating whether or not I should put on whether or not I should put on the shirt that I had found in my room, after our argument, that I washed then decided to wear to bed so that it was like he was still here, like everything was before.

I climb under the covers, and our backs brush and I can feel him shiver, telling me he is still awake. My breath catches, waiting for him to move or to even leave but instead he leans his back into mine, and with a soundless exhale of relief I lean back against his strong spine as I have always done.


End file.
